Yule
Old Man Boros' Keep
"...oh."
Yule huffed at the antics of his companions. They were certainly something. Runner's helpful comment had made the dragonborn look abashed at her outburst. The rest, now recovered from their initial shock, were once again amused.
To his relief, their host was also amused. The elderly man had sunk into one of the armchairs, the one closest to the fire. It looked well-worn, more so than the rest of the seats. A few more books were stacked next to him on a small table. At a glance, they all seemed to be about birds. One had the title 'Winged Beasts: the Elemental Plane of Steam edition'. That book sounded interesting, as did most books Yule had never heard of before.
"Oh, youth. It has been some time since laughter filled this place. Not since that priestess came to check on me, anyway. Ah! My name. I am terribly sorry. How rude."
The old man was made to stand back up and introduce himself, but Selm quickly stopped him. "No need to rise on our account, we are the impolite ones here. Please, stay where you are comfortable."
He nodded gratefully to her. "Very well… My name is Boros. Boros Flintstock. Uhm, people call me… they call me…" He trailed off, his gaze searching.
"Old Man Boros?" Yule offered.
"Yes, yes, that is it. I think."
"Well met, Mister Flintstock."
"Please, just call me Boros, or Old Man Boros, or… uhm… Boros."
Yule simply nodded along as he let Boros settle down. The mage stares into the flames of the fire they were borrowing, letting their hypnotizing movements steal his attention as he pondered their situation.
He was not proficient in estimating the weather, although he was intelligent enough to make educated guesses about how long the rain would last. Thankfully, he had someone better than him at that. According to Baz and his fine senses for these kinds of things, this storm was to be a monstrous one. They may end up locked in Boros' keep for several days, unable to leave without walking through the storm.
It was times like this when he missed Arcaria's carefully controlled weather. It only rained there when the weather mages allowed.
"Are you truly fine with us staying here for as long as the storm demands?" He asked Boros.
"Of course. How could I leave you young folk out there in the rain and the cold. That would just be cruel of me! I have the space, why not let you stay?"
Yule was not one to turn down a good offer when he saw one, thus he argued no further with the man's generosity.
Selm did find offense in staying there for free. "There must be something we can do for you? I would feel awful staying here without giving you something in return."
"Ah, well, if you would like to help out around the keep, then be my guest. Dust collects in places I can no longer reach, and some things are in need of repair. Ah, and cooking is something I may ask for assistance with. Uhm… I think, yes, I think there are a few other things to do…" He listed some other chores for them to do, although most of them were easy and menial. Some could not be completed due to the storm, as they required going outside to trim hedges and clean up the clearing, among other outdoor responsibilities.
"Feel no rush to do such things; they are not going anywhere. Ah, for your rooms, there should be one for each of you. One on the bottom floor and four on the upper. There is a bath and a restroom at the end of the hall where the rooms and the stairs are. Feel free to… explore? Yes, explore. My keep is mostly empty and has sat for many years. If you find something interesting, let me know. I likely forgot it long ago."
"You are most kind. A room for each of us is more than considerate." They were likely uncleaned and covered in dust, but at this point, none of them would likely care. "Is there anything we should know about your keep? Living away from the village must present some dangers. Any traps or wards?"
"None that I am aware of… most things leave me and my home alone. It must be that the guards patrol nearby. That does remind me, though. You may stay here, but please leave my room and the basement untouched. I have some very dear memories stored away, and I would rather they not be disturbed."
Oh? Yule was not the most trusting of people. He had been taught a very valuable lesson when he trusted the wrong colleagues before. While he believed that this old man was harmless, he was immediately suspicious when he told them there were places in the small keep that were off-limits.
Logically speaking, there were several reasons for him to be both suspicious and not.
Boros was an old and frail man, who thus far had not seemed like an act. His home was welcoming and a much-needed place in the storm. Not only that, but they had not been compelled to come here. It was out of the way, and they had avoided it on the way into Groville. Sure, they had come here out of desperation, but they could have also broken into a barn or found an empty farmhouse if they were that desperate.
There was also the divine powers at play: Baz's god seemed to think this place was a good rest. At least, that is what the cleric felt. Naturally, Yule was still cautious, but even he had to respect the wisdom of the gods.
However, there were several things that made the whole scenario questionable to some degree.
Why was a sweet old man all alone out in a cumbly keep just minutes away from town? How did he survive out here if his only visitor was the cleric from the Groville temple every few months? A human man of his unknown yet likely considerable age should not be able to survive on his own out here. It was fair for a host to limit where their guests were allowed, but why only his room and the basement? Just those two places?
And why did this whole keep feel magical?
From the moment they had stepped through the doors, Yule had felt something. It was well hidden and very faint, but Yule had noticed it all the same. One did not spend decades studying magic in the institute without learning how to feel magic. When he had a moment to himself, he would investigate further.
For now, Yule would watch and wait. It could be that Boros truly was just a kindly hermit who inhabited a strange place. It could also be that this was an elaborate scheme by some fey or fiend. Either way, there was more to this than it seemed.
Caution was the most intelligent choice one could make when faced with strange scenarios, after all.
~~~
They had warmed themselves by the fire well into the afternoon, letting their clothes dry. Intermittently, Yule would dry out their packs or someone's clothes with his magic. He could have done it all in one go, but repeated casts of the same spell gave him a headache. A minor spell such as prestidigitation would have taken a long time to give him one, but he'd rather avoid one if he could.
After a while, Ina(for calling her as such was more convenient) and Runner went to explore the rooms available. They had clamored up the stairs, shouting something about wanting the best room available. Selm and Baz had insisted on helping Boros prepare dinner. Soup sounded nourishing after their journey through the deluge. This left Yule alone by the fire. By choice, mind you. Without prying eyes, he could investigate the workings of this place without interruption.
He knelt down before the fire and sat back on his heels. He felt the heat of the fire as it steadily cracked and consumed its fuel. His earrings glinted in the light as they hung from his ears. Ember Awaken. The first feat of magic he had ever performed and one that had shaped his life immeasurably. His connection to fire was something he was proud of. When he had earned the name Pyras, in recognition of his talent for pyromancy, he had been elated. It was his destiny to bring forth the infernum.
Yule liked fire. Fire liked him.
As his eyes closed, the fire before him still danced in his vision. It was something more than the flames simply being beyond his eyelids. It was as if he had stolen some of their light into his veiled vision.
He sat there for several minutes, reciting arcane mumblings. His hands moved slowly, pulling his spellbook from inside his robes and flipping to the exact page he needed. His sight was not required for this practiced action. He knew how many times to turn the page and which section of the book he needed to be in. His fingertips ran over line after line of text, in time with his muttering. His staff, sitting next to him, hummed even without his touch.
The spell wove itself minute after minute. This was why he was who he was and why he did what he did. To feel the touch of magic as it graced his eyes. To hear its whispers as it told him things unknown before. To be one with the strands of magic that make all things. This was what it felt to be alive as a mage.
"Come, secrets, reveal yourselves to me," he whispered, opening his eyes as he gained a new perspective to his vision.
He did love a good puzzle.
The ritual he had gone through was to help him detect anything magical and inform him what type of magic was present. He was surprised to see that the entire keep was faintly magical. Not the objects within it, such as the chairs or the rug, but the walls themselves had been enchanted.
He stood up and walked closer to one of the walls, inspecting the faint glow that they gave off. If anyone had been observing him at that moment, they would have seen him staring at a blank wall with slightly glowing eyes.
To be fair, he was staring at a wall with glowing eyes.
But he was not just staring at the wall itself. He was staring at the magnificence that was the enchantments on the keep. Immediately, he could tell there was some form of warding to prevent the very act he was performing. He knew that the enchantments had to run deeper than what he was seeing, but the first and foremost enchantment was one to block his investigation.
With time and study, he could likely worm his way beneath that outer layer. The question became whether or not there were defenses to punish anyone who dared try such a thing. Perhaps there were some sort of defenses that acted passively, deferring anyone with hostile intent away from this place. Certainly, there had to be some sort of degradation reduction enchantment, else this keep would not still be this habitable with how little maintenance Boros was able to perform. There could be anything buried underneath the outer shell of abjuration runes. It fascinated him just how intricate even those seemed. The more he looked, the more complex the enchantment felt and the more foreign the runes seemed. It all fascinated him. Every bit of it.
Magic was so cool.
~~~
Long after his spell had ended, Yule was still pacing back and forth, trying to make sense of what he had seen. Enchantments that were nothing like he had ever seen were present here. The walls alone hid secrets that made Yule practically giddy to try and uncover. What other secrets was Boros hiding? Did this keep require some sort of core to be able to sustain such magics? Was it self-sufficient? Was there a specific way this magic was cast that was more efficient than anything he knew?
Could Yule learn it too?
If he could learn how to replicate these unique enchantments, many doors would open for him. If he could find out how to cast them with unprecedented efficiency, all doors would be blown off their hinges. Perhaps he would be allowed back.
No. He hadn't even gotten past the first layer. He was being too hasty. Who knows, it could have simply been a complex form of abjuration that required many casters, but was completely known to the Tower of Interference. It was likely that there was no special form of casting or efficiency-enhancing method. He was getting ahead of himself. Haste and high expectations will not make a fool out of him this time. Not again.
Those enchantments were strange, of that there was no doubt in his mind. But were they a good kind of strange?
"Yule, are you coming to eat? The stew is nearly done. A warning is in order: be wary of rocks in your bowl. Boros has a bad habit of mistaking them for food items."
Selm had come to fetch him as he pondered. His attention shifted to her freshly clean face and hair.
"When did you find time to bathe?"
"'Are you alright? It is nearly time for supper. I had plenty of time to freshen up."
"Ah. I must have been staring at this wall for longer than I thought."
"And here I thought you were one of the normal ones."
"What?"
"Nothing."
Her expression was one of bemusement and resignation. Yule had no idea as to why. He chalked it up to the strangeness of this place and Boros.
"Well, I shall be with you momentarily. And… yes, I shall be wary of rocks in my meal. I appreciate the warning."
She nodded and exited the room, heading out into the entry hall that connected to the kitchen. Yule could hear the sounds of the dinner table being set, jovial conversation between his companions and fellow travelers echoing around the stone walls of the keep.
Yule did not trust very easily, but perhaps he would learn to trust these companions. Their laughter sounded warm and comforting, like a cozy fire.
Yule liked fire.